The Terracotta Lady of Coorg

Sundays usually pass in a blur of household chores. While wiping the specks of dust from the trove of trinkets in my living room, the tribal terracotta lady mask fell with a crash and shattered into smithereens.

My wanderlust ensures I always set aside some money for trinkets and souvenirs as tokens of memory. (Mimo Magnetist is my name.) This mask was one such treasure, bought from the bustling markets of Coorg in Karnataka way back in 2016, during a family mini-vacation—perhaps the last one the four of us took together.

Clutching the broken terracotta lady in my guilty hands, a rush of memories flooded me, transporting me to the utopian land of Coorg, nestled in the cozy folds of the Western Ghats. The mask unleashed memories I thought I had left far behind—a nostalgic mix of lovely moments and emotions now resting between the broken pieces.

The car journey of about 100 km from Mysore to Coorg was a delightful drive through misty, dreamy terrain. The lush greenery, pleasant climate, perpetually misty landscape, and cascading waterfalls have rightly earned Coorg the epithet Scotland of India. Everything en route was a panoramic, picturesque sight to behold.

Rolling down the car window engulfed us in the aroma of the world’s best and costliest coffee. The sprawling coffee plantations with red berries accompanied us along the meandering roads dotted with rows of small houses turned into homestays.

Our first stop was the sprawling Namdroling Monastery, also known as the Golden Temple in Kushalnagar, the largest teaching center of the Nyingma lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. It was raining in fits and starts, and the raindrops lashing against the monastery walls in a soothing staccato rhythm made our clothes heavy with water but our hearts light with joy.

Trundling ahead under the dreamy wisps of misty clouds and mystic cerulean skies, we could hear the sonorous cool waterfall of Abbey Falls, hidden deep within verdant forests and coffee plantations. The mossy cliffs, dense forests, and cascading water created a breathtaking sight. We couldn’t stop ourselves from jutting our heads out of the car to take in the passing landscapes and sniff the aroma of spices wafting in the air—a whiff of cardamom here, an overpowering scent of pepper there, and the unmistakable flavor of cinnamon everywhere.

As if the enticing aromas of spices and coffee weren’t enough, Coorg also amazed us with its delectable range of homemade chocolates. These chocolates easily rival any branded ones with their taste, flavor, crunchiness, and variety.

After indulging in spices, coffee, chocolates, and even non-alcoholic fruit wines, the entire vista regaled us with its gourmet delights and beguiled us with its exquisite landscapes. We covered beautiful heritage towns, temples, the Dubare Elephant Camp, and many more waterfalls before finally reaching our resort in Madikeri. My memory fails me when it comes to the name of the property, but it was truly a paradise.

The next day, we visited the famous Omkareshwar Temple, Hanuman Temple, Coorg Fort, and Raja’s Seat Garden—a vantage point to witness the bands of orange, crimson, and ochre streaming across the horizon at sunrise. The verdant, sloping mountains of the Western Ghats, adorned with beautifully manicured trees, bushes, and topiary, left us spellbound.

However, the most memorable part of the trip was the sacred riverscape of Tala Cauvery, the origin point of the River Cauvery. With mist hanging thick in the air, a light drizzle falling, and the pristine fountain of water in a tank giving birth to the river, the experience was truly a sliver of paradise—a hallowed spot revered by all.

The climate, cascades of waterfalls, coffee, chocolates, and Cauvery—this is what Coorg calls you for.

Seeing me lost in a silent reverie, my sweet and thoughtful mother-in-law approached with a roll of cellophane tape and a tube of Fevicol to fix the terracotta mask, now marinated in myriad memories. With a wistful smile and heavy steps, I carried the splintered tribal lady to the trash bin. But even as I bade her farewell, I was filled with gratitude—for she had unlocked the treasure vault of my precious memories, something she couldn’t do while hanging silently on the wall for nearly a decade.

It was an adieu filled with gratitude for the mask, which unmasked my latent memories, making itself memorable after it was gone.

ना जाने क्यूँ होता है ये ज़िंदगी के साथ

अचानक ये मन किसी के जाने के बाद

करे फिर उसकी याद, छोटी-छोटी सी बात।